by C. Eire
The 2nd part of Mickey VonHart & His Many Other Selves, his Condition better revealed here
|[The second one is fairly confusing if you do not read the first, but readable nonetheless. :) ]
..."this is going to take awhile." sighed Dr. Lecter.
"Fuck Doc." Rex laughed, sputtering out the blue-grey smoke of his cigarette, "It's taken you this long to figure that out? Man, I thought you were smart!"
The doctor ignored his comment and went on with his inquiries. "You came into being when Sir Fred did? After the incident with Lydia?"
"Like I can answer that! I got Mick's social aspects. I'm a party boy. Girls, beer pong, and fights are my specialty. If you want something different you gotta ask one of the others." Rex replied, drinking some of his coors and putting his shoes on the coffee table that separated the doctor and the patient in case of phycological breakdown and attack. In the middle of a sip, a slightly puzzled look came onto his face, then he looked to be deep in thought. Dr. Lecter recognized the expression from a much younger Mickey, back when he went by Mitchell and only carried around a plastic sword. "Mick wants out. Should I let him? There's really nothing for me out here."
The doctor deliberated. "No, I have at least one more question. Can you talk to all of them when you are out, or just Mickey?"
Rex stretched. "I can talk to them when I'm not out, like when I'm in, I can talk to the ones who aren't out, but not the one who is out if it's not Mick. Get it?"
"So, Mickey all of the time, but the others only if you are out, to clarify?"
"Yup." Rex polished off his Coors. "Anything else?"
"Yes." answered the psychiatrist, sitting up straighter on his leather chair. "One more. Why do you change clothes when you come out?"
The party-boy laughed. "Man, wouldn't it piss you off if you were wearing someone else's clothes?" His laughter turned to a moan when Rex turned to Mickey, who immediately asked for an ashtray and tore off the black beanie Rex had been wearing. After coughing, snuffing out the cigarette, and changing back into his navy blue button-up shirt, he finally said "I hate smoking." eliciting a laugh from the good doctor.
"So, Mickey, you mentioned others?"
Mickey snorted. "Yes. Lucifer and Gabriel. Which one first?" he asked, cutting off the inevitable request of his childhood doctor.
After some thought, the answer came. "Gabriel."
Mickey blushed. The doctor wondered at this as his patient dug his hand back into the beat-up green pack and pulled out a bundle of white first, then a gold sash, gladiator sandals, and a large pair of white feathered wings. Extremely confused, Dr. Lecter watched the young lawyer proceed to discard his clothing and regale himself with a long flowing robe and the accessories that went with it. A grimace plastered on his face, Mickey waited for the transference of personalities to take place. The wait was longer than before, but at last his back arched and the sound that a masochist would make as their skin was cut ripped out of the thin lips. The largest, brightest smile that Dr. Lecter had ever seen on the usually stoic and refined Mickey. The new personality let eyes that were usually stormy-now perfectly clear-rest on the doctor's clipboard. "Peace be with you."